


Begging

by firethesound



Series: Don't Think Twice [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arguing, Blow Jobs, Dominance, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound/pseuds/firethesound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Malfoy meet up for Valentine's Day. They didn't plan it, really, that's just the way it worked out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begging

Harry’s meeting Malfoy for Valentine’s Day.

Not that either of them have discussed it in that context. It’s just that they’ve fallen into a habit of meeting up in certain places on certain days, and one of those days is Sunday, and Valentine’s this year just happens to fall on a Sunday, and so… here they are.

Or at least, here Harry is, because Malfoy hasn’t bothered to show up yet. Sighing, Harry aims a few half-hearted cleaning charms around the abandoned classroom. One particularly memorable night a few weeks back, Malfoy had ended up with a cobweb in his hair and dear fucking Merlin, Harry would have thought it was the return of Voldemort given how Draco had carried on about it. He’s eager to avoid any sort of repeat. In any case, Malfoy usually comes up with more than enough things to bitch about on his own; no need to give him anything else.

Harry’s just debating whether to Transfigure the professor’s desk into a bed or if he’d rather fuck Malfoy up against the wall when the door swings open. Malfoy strides in, looks pleased to see Harry waiting on him, then looks even more pleased when Harry scowls. He turns back to the door and sets about warding it shut.

“I’ve got something for you for Valentine’s Day,” Malfoy announces after he finishes with the door.

“It’s not your cock again, is it?” Harry asks, eyeing Malfoy suspiciously. “Because you already gave me that for Christmas, and giving the same thing twice in a row would just be tacky.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Malfoy says, despite the fact that Harry’s question is perfectly valid considering it’s based on _actual recent experience_. “I’m giving you all of this.” He gestures grandly to himself.

“Er,” says Harry. “I’m pretty sure I get ‘all of that’ several times a week.” Not that he’s ungrateful, but he really has no idea what Malfoy’s getting at.

“Ah, but this is different,” Malfoy tells him with a sly smile. “For tonight, and tonight only, I’ll do anything you want. Absolutely anything. No limits.”

Anything? There has to be a catch. Harry frowns. “Really?”

“Really,” Malfoy assures him in a way that Harry doesn’t find at all reassuring. “And don’t try to tell me the semen-eating thing and your weird obsession with my Mark are the only kinks you’ve got rattling around in that frightening little brain of yours. I’m sure there’s something else you’ve been dying to try.” He watches Harry and one eyebrow lifts into an elegant arch. “Isn’t there?”

“Okay, so,” says Harry, still trying to work out the downside of Malfoy offering to do anything Harry might ask of him. “I just want to be sure I’m understanding this. You’re going to do whatever I want, anything at all. For Valentine’s Day.”

Malfoy folds his arms over his chest and stares at Harry. “Well how else would you suggest celebrating a holiday that’s all about fucking?”

Harry’s pretty sure that’s not how most other people view Valentine’s Day, but if that’s how Malfoy chooses to interpret it, well, Harry is more than willing to further his misconceptions. Especially when those misconceptions involve Malfoy saying the words ‘ _anything_ ’ and ‘ _you_ ’ and ‘ _want_ ’ in precisely that order.

“Well,” he says. “Okay, then.”

The way Malfoy smirks when Harry agrees to it means he’s almost definitely got another angle he’s working. But fuck it, the only things Malfoy’s tried to manipulate him into doing so far have all been sexual, and there hasn’t been one of them yet that Harry didn’t enjoy. Whatever he’s after with all this ‘anything you want’ business can’t be too bad. Probably.

Reaching out, Harry curls his hands loosely around Malfoy’s shoulders and swings him around, pushing him up against the wall. Malfoy allows himself to be steered until his back meets cool stone. He doesn’t try to move away, just watches Harry and raises his eyebrows, until Harry presses down and Malfoy obediently sinks to his knees.

“Really,” he says, looking up at Harry even as his fingers stroke the insides of Harry’s thighs. “I offer you anything and all you want is for me to suck your cock?” He tuts gently. “You’ve disappointed me, Potter.”

Malfoy’s fingers are stroking higher now and Harry suppresses a shiver as he spreads his legs wide, and Malfoy’s hand slips higher to fondle his bollocks through his trousers. “Maybe I just want your mouth occupied so you’ll shut up.”

Malfoy snorts. “Oh, Potter,” he says with a vicious smile. “You know you like it when I say terrible things to you.”

“Oh yes,” Harry agrees, rolling his eyes and ignoring the fact that a part of him (a very small part, to be sure, but still a part) sort of likes it when Malfoy is awful. “Because it’s _such_ a turn-on to hear you tell me my breath smells like something that crawled up a hippogriff’s arse and died. Or that my hair looks like a hippogriff’s been nesting in it. Or—”

“I’m so pleased you’ve committed them to memory,” Malfoy interjects.

“—when you say I sound like a hippogriff in heat when I come,” Harry talks over him.

Malfoy smirks. “I’m particularly fond of that one.”

“You know, with all the hippogriff comments you make, I really have to wonder,” Harry says. “Is there a reason behind them? Because I sort of feel like I should be jealous of hippogriffs.”

“Why, because they’ve got better manners than you’ve got?” Malfoy asks.

“That’s funny, coming from the person who claims to have been mauled by one.”

“Exactly,” Malfoy says.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh yes, I’m clearly inferior to hippogriffs in every way, and I cry myself to sleep at night knowing you’ll never love me because I haven’t got wings and a beak,” Harry says sarcastically. “Is that the only way you’re able to get it up for me, Malfoy? Imagining you’re being plowed by a hippogriff?”

Even though Harry hasn’t really said anything worse than the things Malfoy said to him, Malfoy’s eyes harden, which is just like him to not be able to take the sort of insults he’s so cavalier about handing out.

“Right,” he says, starting to stand. “This is over.”

“The fuck it is,” Harry says, pushing him back down. “You said _anything_. That means if I want to stand here and insult you for the rest of the night, you can’t say anything about it.”

Malfoy aims a sneer up at him but sinks back to his knees. “Fine. And now you’ve had your fun with it. But say another word about hippogriffs and I leave.”

Harry’s poked fun at Malfoy’s tendency toward hippogriff-related insults loads of times before, and he has no idea why the mad bastard’s chosen now to get all prickly over it, but he knows Malfoy well enough by now to know when he’s upset enough by something to go flouncing off like a the git he is. And while needling Malfoy is always fun, Harry’s not stupid enough to throw away a perfectly good blowjob for it. He can fuck with Malfoy afterward, if he still feels like it, because then it won’t matter if Malfoy goes storming off. Their next meet-up isn't until Tuesday and by then Malfoy will want sex more than he'll want to prove a point.

“Fine,” he says, unfastening his trousers and pushing them down. “Get to it, then.”

Malfoy gives him another sneer, but he doesn’t hesitate before taking Harry into his mouth and sucking hard. For all that Malfoy had refused to suck Harry’s cock for the first couple of months after they’d taken up with each other, he’s certainly enthusiastic about it. Has been since the very beginning, really. He’s always so eager, like there’s nothing he loves better than sucking cock, which is ridiculously untrue because Harry’s seen how Malfoy gets with a cock up his arse.

Malfoy starts to pull back, his eyes flicking up to Harry’s face. Probably going to say something obnoxious again, and Harry doesn’t give him the chance.

He grabs him by the hair and pushes his cock into Malfoy’s mouth again, partly to shut him up and partly because he just likes doing it, and Malfoy takes it without protest, even makes an appreciative little hum like he actually _likes_ being manhandled like this. He stares up at Harry, his pale brows furrowed so hard in concentration that he’s almost glaring as he puts everything he’s got into sucking hard, his tongue working up the underside of Harry’s cock, dragging firmly over the crown, and then sliding back down. Harry groans and knots his hand in Malfoy’s hair, uses his grip to push so far into his mouth that Malfoy gags and coughs as he pulls off a little. But he doesn’t pull off all the way, and a few seconds later he’s sliding his mouth back down. He’s definitely glaring now, and it’s seriously fucked up how much Harry loves that.

Part of the thrill of making Malfoy submit to him like this – pissed off and as obnoxious as ever but still _submitting_ – is how tenuous it feels to Harry. He’s irrevocably hooked on Malfoy by now, helplessly addicted to what they’re doing, and if Malfoy ever set his mind to pushing back, Harry would buckle without a second thought. The idea that it could just as easily be him on his knees excites him that much more.

Somewhere over the years, he must have grown used to living dangerously. That might explain this whole mad thing he’s got going with Malfoy.

Malfoy’s eyes have drifted closed, and his lids seem as thin and delicate as onionskin. There’s the faint blue tracing of a vein just in the crease of the left one, and how has Harry never noticed before how girlishly long his lashes are? There’s something almost sinful about how beatific his closed eyes are. Or maybe that’s just the way his lips are stretched around Harry’s cock. 

Harry’s getting close, and there’s something else he wants. He tangles one hand in Malfoy’s hair and uses it to urge him backward so the back of his skull is snug against the wall. With his other hand, he gropes for Malfoy’s fingers and holds tight.

“I’m going to fuck you, okay?” he says. “I want… but I don’t want to hurt you. If it’s too much, squeeze my hand and I’ll stop. Okay?”

Malfoy blinks up at him, flicks his tongue over the tip of Harry’s cock, and gives a slight nod.

Harry takes a deep breath, draws back, and pushes sharply forward. His cock hits the back of Malfoy’s throat, and he holds still as Malfoy chokes, coughing around Harry’s length. But he doesn’t squeeze Harry’s hand. And after a moment he looks up at Harry again and raises his eyebrows as if to ask _Well? What are you waiting for?_

“Okay,” Harry whispers, not sure whether he’s talking to Malfoy or to himself.

He draws back again and thrusts forward, hesitates to give Malfoy a chance to squeeze his hand, then thrusts again when it doesn’t come. It’s times like this that Harry has a hard time believing that Malfoy’s really a pureblood. Because how can his blood possibly be that pure if he’s willing to let Harry do such filthy things to him? Yet here he is, on his knees, letting Harry use him roughly and not saying a single word in protest.

A sudden squeeze of his hand barely penetrates the fog of pleasure, and he stutters out another half a thrust before it sinks into his brain what it means. He pulls back immediately, and Malfoy leans forward as if to follow him, coughs, swallows thickly, and coughs again. His face is flushed, his eyes watery and his nose streaming, and god, it shouldn’t turn Harry on nearly this much to see him like that.

“I…” Harry begins, but trails off. Part of him feels as though he should apologize, but Malfoy had agreed to it, and Harry had stopped when asked. He hadn’t done anything _wrong_ , but he still felt as though he should say—

“Sorry,” Malfoy says, his voice hoarse. He rubs his nose with the back of his wrist.

“No, I’m sorry,” Harry says quickly. “I didn’t mean…”

Malfoy interrupts with a theatrical sniff and rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up,” he says. “I did say you could do anything you wanted.” He coughs again, a low, throaty sound that makes Harry want to slam into him all over again. “And you didn’t hurt me. Now come here, there’s a good boy.” He curls his hands around Harry’s hips, draws him forward, and takes Harry’s cock into his mouth again.

Harry gladly cedes control to Malfoy, lets him set the pace and decide how deep to take him. Harry braces himself against the wall and lets himself go, his whole world narrowed down to the hot wet suction of Malfoy’s mouth. He’s gotten so much better at this over the months they’d been fucking around together, quickly learning what Harry likes best, and in no time at all Harry can feel himself getting close. There’s one last thing Harry wants, has been wanting for a long time and hasn’t quite managed to work up the nerve to ask for. But tonight Malfoy’s promised him _anything_ and Harry’s more than willing to take advantage of that.

“I want… I want…” Harry stammers out as his orgasm rushes up.

Malfoy, the bastard, gives Harry’s thigh a sharp pinch. It staves off his climax just enough for him to get the words out.

“Don’t swallow,” he gasps. “God, Malfoy, please, don’t swallow.”

And then he’s coming, so hard that his knees go all wobbly with the force of it. He allows himself a few seconds to catch his breath, then steps back and uses his grip on Malfoy’s hand to tug him up to his feet.

“Did you?” Harry asks. “Er, I mean…”

Malfoy blinks once, slowly, and shakes his head.

“Oh god,” Harry sighs, feeling a little punch-drunk at the thought of Malfoy just standing there with a mouthful of Harry’s come. For the first time in his life, he loves Valentine’s Day. Most brilliant day of the year, absolutely, it’s Harry’s new favorite. The hell with Christmas, and his birthday can go fuck itself.

He presses Malfoy back against the wall and leans in close, and Malfoy’s eyes go wide. He jerks back, as far as he can get with the wall behind him, and Harry panicks a little. Without thinking, he reaches up and catches Malfoy by the throat, his fingers digging in.

“ _Don’t swallow,_ ” he says, and Malfoy’s eyes get even bigger.

He feels Malfoy’s throat work beneath his fingers, a sharp bob of his Adam’s apple against Harry’s palm. Harry doesn’t let go, and a moment later Malfoy nods. Slowly, Harry uncurls his fingers, barely spares a glance for the pink marks he’s left round Malfoy’s throat, and slides his hand back until his fingers brush the soft hair at the nape of Malfoy’s neck.

Harry leans in again, and this time Malfoy lets him, his eyes fluttering closed at the last moment, and Harry lets his fall shut as well. He hesitates for a moment, nearly losing his nerve, the tip of his nose barely brushing Malfoy’s cheek, then he closes that last fraction of an inch between them. His lips press against Malfoy’s and it’s almost chaste, Malfoy’s mouth so soft beneath his own. Harry presses a bit firmer against him, feels how Malfoy’s lips mold to his, warm and sweetly pliant. Malfoy’s breath tickles Harry’s cheek as he exhales through his nose, and he sways forward, his arms sliding around Harry’s waist. Emboldened, Harry pulls Malfoy closer against himself and gently nips at his bottom lip.

Malfoy whimpers at that, actually honest-to-god _whimpers_ and it’s all Harry can do to keep from slamming him up against the wall and snogging him breathless. He forces himself to keep control, to keep from rushing this. He’s wanted to kiss Malfoy for so long that he wants to do it properly, and that means taking his time. Harry keeps kissing him slow, and it’s worth it, absolutely fucking worth it, because Malfoy practically melts against him, goes all loose and warm and pliant in a way that makes Harry think that even if Malfoy hadn’t already offered to do whatever Harry wanted tonight, right now he’d agree to it anyhow.

He drags the tip of his tongue over the curve of Malfoy’s lower lip and gently coaxes his mouth open. And at the first slick sweep of Malfoy’s tongue against his own, Harry decides he can just die happy right here and now.

Harry’s intimately familiar with the taste of his own come. He’d been thirteen or so when he’d figured out he liked it. But tasting it on Malfoy’s tongue is something else entirely. Harry’s control wavers again and this time he doesn’t even try to resist. He groans, pushing Malfoy up against the wall, and kisses him deep, and oh god this is everything. Malfoy makes that whimper again, breathy and needy, and his fingers curl into the back of Harry’s shirt as he pulls him closer. He rocks his hips up, rubbing his hard cock against Harry.

So soon after orgasming, Harry’s too sensitive for frotting. He tilts his hips back to get some distance between them and fumbles for Malfoy’s belt. Gets it worked open one-handed, gets his trousers down, takes Malfoy’s cock in hand and gives it a brief squeeze before settling right into an easy rhythm of long, firm strokes.

He feels Malfoy’s breath stutter, his kissing falter and eventually break off. His face slides against Harry’s in a slight rasp of stubble, their cheeks pressed together, Malfoy’s hot breath panting in his ear. He sounds like he’s coming undone, and Harry likes that so he speeds up his strokes. Malfoy’s thrusting into it now, fucking his cock into Harry’s fist, and then he whimpers again as he comes all over Harry’s hand.

Malfoy’s breathing hard, his forehead resting heavily on Harry’s shoulder, his hands still lightly holding Harry’s hips. And Harry lets him be. Malfoy’s orgasm sounded like a good one, the sort that should be properly enjoyed afterward, and Harry lets him have as much time as he’d like to bask in the afterglow. Just holds him close and fondles his slippery cock a little because he likes the way it makes Malfoy’s hips twitch with how oversensitive he is right now.

Eventually Malfoy pushes his hand away and Harry holds up his fingers, fully intending to lick them clean. But before he can, Malfoy leans forward, his lips part, and he takes Harry’s fingers into his mouth. Harry feels like he can’t breathe as Malfoy’s eyes fall half-shut and his cheeks hollow as he sucks, exactly like when he was sucking Harry’s cock. His tongue curls warm and wet around Harry’s fingers, sliding down to the base of each one, flicking between them, meticulously licking every last smear of his own come from Harry’s skin.

And Harry can’t take it anymore, he needs to kiss Malfoy again _right now_. Malfoy bites at his fingertips as Harry pulls them free, then Harry slides his hand into Malfoy’s hair and draws him close, and Malfoy doesn’t say a word about the fact that Harry’s fingers are damp with spit, just tilts his head and lets Harry kiss him again, and Harry’s pretty sure it can’t get any better than this.

At least until he deepens this kiss and Malfoy’s lips part, and Harry discovers that he didn’t swallow this time, either.

Malfoy’s come is watery and diluted with his spit, and Harry’s dimly aware that what he’s doing is sort of gross. But fuck it, he’s sucked his own come out of Malfoy’s arse before and still mentally rates that as the most fucked-up thing he’s done. He’d enjoyed that, and he’s enjoying the hell out of this, and fucked-up is a relative term anyhow, so what the hell does it all matter when it feels this good?

They kiss and kiss until the tastes fades, until all that’s left is Malfoy’s mouth, and then after a while even that doesn’t taste like anything anymore. But it’s so good, and Harry’s wanted this for so long that he can’t bring himself to stop.

When he finally pulls away long minutes later, Malfoy sways with him, prolonging the contact. His eyes flutter open and he watches Harry gently, his expression soft and a little dazed, his lips swollen and very pink from so much kissing. He looks languid and endearingly debauched, and Harry leans against him, enjoying it while it lasts before Post-Orgasm Malfoy disappears and Giant Arsehole Malfoy makes his reappearance.

But it never comes. Instead of hardening, Malfoy’s expression shuts down into a perfectly blank mask. Without a word, he nudges Harry back enough to get away from him and sets about putting his clothing to rights. Harry buttons up his own trousers and waits for Malfoy to finish.

“Malfoy…” Harry begins, hoping to head off whatever stupidly inflammatory thing Malfoy plans to tell him this time.

“I hope you enjoyed this,” Malfoy interrupts, “because it’s not happening again.”

His voice is oddly flat and Harry, expecting venom and spite, is thrown off course entirely. “What?”

Malfoy looks at Harry over his shoulder. “I told you, it was just for tonight.”

A slow surge of disappointment washes through Harry. He’d thought tonight was brilliant and was looking forward to doing it again. “Was it really that bad?” Inwardly, he winces even as the words leave his mouth. He sounds needy, and needy is a weakness so big he might as well paint a target on it for Malfoy to aim at.

But the blow never comes.

Instead of tearing into Harry, Malfoy just looks away. “Yes,” he says quietly.

“Fuck you,” Harry spits before he can think better of it, and Malfoy looks startled. But fuck, once it’d gotten out that he liked eating come, everyone had looked at him like he was some kind of freak for it. Even Ron and Hermione had looked at him askance, even though they’d tried to hide it. But Malfoy had been the one person who hadn’t, who’d just accepted it unquestioningly, and to see that he thinks it’s as abhorrent as everyone else does is enough to piss him right the fuck off. “If you didn’t like it you can just say so, I get that it’s not for everyone. But that’s no reason for you to not even be able to _look_ at me. And anyhow, you never seem to mind when I’m licking it out of your arse.” He huffs and folds his arms over his chest.

“You think—” Malfoy begins, and breaks off. “Right. Yes. It’s disgusting. I hate the taste of come.”

“Wait,” says Harry. He’s belatedly twigging onto the fact that there’s something off about this, and all the pieces don’t quite add up. “But you always swallow.”

“Yes,” Malfoy tells him, giving him a look like he’s being an idiot. “Because I don’t like how it tastes. If I _swallow_ it then it’s _not in my mouth_.”

“But the whole point of—”

“I said I don’t want to do it again,” Malfoy snaps, and the return of Malfoy’s open hostility puts Harry on firmer ground.

“You’re such an arsehole,” Harry says.

“Yes, I am,” Malfoy agrees. “And so are you. And that’s why this works, doesn’t it? Because you need someone who’s as big an arsehole as you are because no one else is willing to put up with you and your shit. All the sneaking around and being the Chosen One’s dirty little secret. And yeah, Goldstein turned out to be a twat, but you didn’t know that when you fucked up your little _arrangement_ with him. And I’d bet every last knut to my name that you’d have behaved exactly the same to anyone else.”

“That’s not—You told me that—” Harry breaks off as he tries to counter every point at once. He and Malfoy are only doing this with each other because there’s no other gay blokes at Hogwarts and not because Malfoy’s some sort of arsehole-martyr for putting up with Harry, and anyhow Harry was perfectly up front about what he wanted from this, and he was perfectly up front with what he wanted from Goldstein, and why the fuck is Malfoy even bringing up Goldstein at all? That’s been over for ages and… He takes a deep breath and focuses on the most disturbing of what Malfoy had said. “Malfoy, are you seriously telling me you don’t want this to be a secret anymore?”

Harry’s not sure what will happen if that’s the case, doesn’t know why Malfoy would even want that when he so clearly dislikes Harry pretty much any time any part of one of them isn’t inside part of the other. Some sort of twisted revenge plot? Just for the fun of making Harry’s life miserable? Was that really what tonight was about, Malfoy just gathering more embarrassment to pile on Harry publicly? Harry’s fingers tighten around his wand. He hasn’t entirely ruled out _Obliviate_ as a way to fix this.

“Of course not,” Malfoy sneers. “I have even less desire for our little trysts to become public knowledge than you do. I’m expected to make a respectable marriage. If it comes out what I’ve been doing with you, I’ve no doubt that the Greengrasses will cut off all communications after they discover they’ve been trying to marry their precious daughter off to a gay man. And my parents have spent most of this year in negotiations with them already, I’d hate to force them to start over with someone else.”

Harry had managed to put Malfoy’s impending betrothal out of his mind entirely, and it hits him so hard it feels like a physical blow. He and Malfoy don’t like each other, Harry has no illusions about that, but the sex is fucking amazing and he finds he doesn’t want to give that up.

“What?” Malfoy asks warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re… disappointed?”

“Of course I’m bloody well disappointed,” Harry tells him. “I can’t shag you if you’re getting married to someone else. You’re a git, but the sex is fucking amazing.”

“It probably won’t happen until close to when we sit our NEWTs at the very earliest. Maybe not until after we’ve left school,” Malfoy sighs, sounding exasperated and irritated and exhausted all at once. “And then you’ll have your pick from the whole bloody world, won’t you? You won’t have to go without for very long. And anyhow, it’s a bit of an arbitrary line to be drawing, don’t you think?”

Harry frowns. “What do you mean?”

Malfoy gives him a look that’s all exasperation. “I’m getting married, Potter. Just because it’s not official yet doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing,” Malfoy cuts him off, and he sounds prickly again. “Forget I said anything. If you need this line to keep from offending your precious Gryffindor sensibilities, far be it from me to erase it.”

And then he’s got the door unwarded with a flick of his wand and he’s gone before Harry can figure out what the hell Malfoy’s on about with all this, much less how to respond to it. Harry knew this was a temporary arrangement, has known since the very beginning. He has no idea why Malfoy felt the need to throw that back in his face just now. He also has no idea why he’s wasting his time mulling it over. Malfoy’s always been irrational when it comes to Harry, hasn’t he? Saying all sorts of things just to get a rise out of him. That’s all this is, probably, just Malfoy flaunting it that this whatever-it-is they’re doing with each other has got a countdown on it. Probably makes him feel superior to know that it’s going to end because of him. Probably makes him feel all powerful and in-control or whatever.

And if he needs those feelings of power and control to keep from offending his precious Slytherin sensibilities, far be it from Harry to take that away from him.

He sighs, gives the room a once-over for anything that might give a clue as to who’s been here or what they might have been doing, then locks up and heads back for his dorm.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of people are asking for more, so I'm adding a note here to say that I do intend to finish this series. I lost motivation on it for a while and then Life Stuff got hectic so it'll be a while before I'm able to do it, but the next part will be finished and posted as soon as I am able to get it done.


End file.
